All In White
by Your-Protector
Summary: Death City doesn't catch Jane's eye probably because she thinks she's seen it all. When she realizes she has nothing in common with the immature kids in her new school she pursues the one person with who excites her interest - her handsome young teacher, Professor Stein. SteinXOC Rated M for language, drugs, and maybe a lemon


**A/N: I deeply apologize to anyone who reads my other stories and wants me to update those, I've just had this swirling around my brain for so long I needed to get it down. I find it so strange of me but I just love the scandal of a studentXteacher relationship... that is, if the teacher is somewhat close to the student's age (15) Anywho, I tried REALLY hard on this, if all chapters are this long, it'll probably only be about 3 or 4 or 5 chapters. Please enjoy!**

**This chapter is rated M for language and drug use involving teenagers**

* * *

It was raining. The light petal drops tinkered on the tin roof.

Home was now an illusion to her. She felt as if there was some sort of weightlessness inside of her, pulling her, tugging her around, but faintly. She didn't know what to hold on to anymore. She felt like a southern bird that had stayed north too long.

All this disorientation had dragged her to the DWMA. She just couldn't stand it anymore.

The boredom. The loneliness. The fatigue. It ate away at her like a maggot. It was a parasite.

When Lord Death reached out to her personally, she wondered if finally she should purge. She continually told herself that something good would come of the move, she could lose her demons.

But no, they followed her.

* * *

She was lying on the couch, her back pressed against the cushions. Her arms were stretching above her head, her mouth slightly open. The wall would need to be repainted, she decided. No one could bear such an awful color.

She found many reasons to hate her new apartment. Nitpicking it and forcing herself to try and realize this move had been a mistake.

The place was damp and dank, it smelled like an old attic. She spent her first few hours in Death City unpacking and trying to get the smell out of the old blankets at the bottom of the boxes.

Small pieces of sky fell to the ground outside. It was a sprinkle of rain, not enough to get one drenched, but enough to encase the sky in gray clouds.

When she finished, she lied down on the couch and stared at that putrid, eggshell white wall. She felt the weight of the year that lay behind her, the heaviness of the year to come. It was all a cycle. All people do their entire lives is move from one piece of holy ground to another. It was tiring.

Today was her seventeenth birthday. It was ninety degrees outside, and it was humid. There was no sun, and the rain on the roof was causing a beat similar to a metronome's to course through the three room flat.

Jane Wexler was ok. She didn't even have a heart anymore.

* * *

"Hello! Welcome!" Lord Death bounced in place, seemingly beaming through his mask at the girl.

She wound a strand of her wavy dark brown hair around a finger and didn't say anything.

"I suppose you know why I asked you to come here," he continued.

The Death Chamber was intensely quiet. Not one soul was in the room, seeing as Death did not have one, and Jane's was practically dead at this point.

"You are a very special girl, aren't you?" he leaned in closely to get a good look at her.

Jane shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, still not answering. She focused in on a small crack on the ground, it prevented the room from folding in on itself.

"It's not on a regular basis that I personally invite a student to join us at Shibusen," he leaned back and seemed to bounce with every word. "But not every student has a gift as special as yours!"

He didn't sense it? Jane almost choked. The overwhelming feeling of grief and anguish tearing into her soul even further

"That soul of yours sure can take a beating," he noted. "Don't try to hide it from me."

She stared up at him, her pale blue eyes wide. "I-I didn't mean to-"

"Oh ho ho," he held up one of his fingers. "That's a story for another day, Ms. Wexler."

Jane didn't say anything. She wasn't sure where he was going.

"Your soul wavelength can mask many things; it's unlike anything I've seen before." Jane adjusted her bomber jacket that had slipped off her shoulder. "Do you intentionally tuck away your own problems? I'm afraid you're damaging your soul."

She shifted uncomfortably in her boots; she was guilty of doing this. But it was for a good reason. She nodded meekly.

"Hmmm," Lord Death turned away from her. "If I'm assuming correctly, your wavelength is selfless enough to go as far as calming madness. At its own cost, of course."

She cocked her head, "What do you mean 'at its own cost'?" her jaw hurt. That might've been the first time she'd spoken a full sentence in weeks.

"We'll see," he spoke gently, as if not to scare her off. "I'll assign you to someone I'm finding quite troublesome soon." He turned around again to look at his mirror; he looked around as if looking for something. "For now, you should go to your classes."

* * *

The door of the lecture hall opened with a staggering creak. Stein looked up from his desk to see a girl walk into the class. A few students looked up from their classwork and he shot them daunting looks which sent their eyes straight back to their papers.

A beautiful face, he noted, though it was lacking stitching. It lacked imperfection. Chocolate brown hair spilled down her face and shoulders, she had a button nose, and her bottom lip was red, probably because she had been subconsciously biting down on it.

Perhaps he would speak to Lord Death about reinstating dress codes, because her dress allowed less to the imagination. It wrapped around her curvy body as if it were a second skin. The maroon dress ended mid-thigh. Her supple breasts revealed quite a bit of cleavage, but she took this into consideration because she was wearing a black jacket that hung loosely around her shoulders.

But Stein couldn't keep himself from staring. Her creamy white skin, begging to be marked. Her long, elegant collar bones, jutted out in such a way that his hands twitched to get a hold of them. To examine them. And her legs, not one marking on the perfectly ivory skin. It looked so soft to touch and so tempting to open up.

She had one hand stuffed in the pocket of her jacket and another clutching onto a note. Her slender fingers rubbed the piece of paper in a nervous twitch. She flipped the hair out of her face with a flick of her neck, and his eyes met hers; an uncertain and melancholy twinge to her gaze. Her eyes flickered down and disappeared through a curtain of eyelashes. She placed the note down on his desk without a word and retreated towards a seat in the back of the room.

His eyes flickered to the note. Jane Wexler. She was a new student. His hand reached up to the screw in his head, he twisted it until it gave out a satisfying _click_. He would have to ask Lord Death about this new girl.

* * *

She sat down at the top row; his eyes flickered from the note to his computer without a second glance.

She didn't know why the idea had come to her when it did, but she instantly knew that it would make life more interesting.

Didn't everyone want to be different sometimes? Someone smarter and sexier and bolder than they really were? Or maybe she just looked and saw someone who was as lonely as her.

Or maybe she was just going a little crazy.

She laid her hands flat on the table and rested her chin on them, eyes boring into him. She didn't normally do things of this nature, but now was a time of new beginnings.

His image intrigued her. He had to be in his mid to late twenties, his face was young, except for the unmistakable dark circles under his eyes. Jane would know. She wore an identical pair.

Stitches and scars covered his body. A large stitch traveled from underneath his shirt all the way up his face and circled around his eye. Jane yearned to touch it. The feel of rough, puckered skin on the tips of her fingers sent shivers down her spine.

His hair sat on his head tousled and disheveled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. The gray hair looked so soft to touch, so easy to comb fingers through. And he had a big screw through his head which he was now turning with his massive hand. Her fingers wanted to touch that too.

But what intrigued her the most about the man with the broad, broad shoulders was that unmistakable mask he had painted on his face. And here was Lord Death telling her that she was gifted for being able to hide her soul, this man could do it with such ease.

But she sensed it. It was heavy in the room. His soul was being weighed down by something unlike she had ever sensed before.

She leaned back in her chair and pulled up her jacket again.

Her new life was about to begin; starting with her lonely professor.

* * *

"Do you have any of Jane Wexler's files?" Stein asked the Shinigami, who was turned towards the mirror.

"Ah! Stein! Good to see you!" the Reaper bounced towards the tall man. "I see you've met our new student!"

"She didn't say much," Stein rubbed his chin. "I just wanted to know if I could look over her medical files, permanent record, things of that nature."

Spirit appeared from behind the centerpiece mirror, "Stein what are you planning?" he had a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Don't be disgusting, Spirit." Stein kept his cool demeanor.

The Death Scythe opened his mouth to interject but Lord Death cut in, "Right oh, Stein! Unfortunately, Ms. Wexler's files are a bit difficult to obtain seeing that they seem to be nonexistent…" Stein's mind buzzed with unanswered questions. They ate at him. "Although I'm sure there's nothing we can't find. All in good time!"

"Of course," Stein bowed to the Grim Reaper. "I'll be taking my leave now. Goodbye."

The Death Scythe jammed his hands into his pockets and stood next to the Shinigami, they watched as Stein's white lab coat disappeared in the hallway of guillotines. "You sensed it, didn't you?"

The Reaper's mask contorted into a distressed expression, "Yes of course," he paused, forming his next sentence. "I sensed it a while ago. That's why I brought her here."

"What would she do about it?" Spirit demanded.

"Well," Lord Death returned to his chipper disposition. "We'll just have to see, won't we?"

* * *

Jane leaned against the windowpane and pulled it open, sticking her head out into the cool night breeze.

Rain was dripping down from the gutters on the roof, a rhythm of water droplets forming quickly.

She brought the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag. When she exhaled, she could feel the smoke exiting through her nostrils.

She detested smoking. It didn't smell good. It didn't make her feel good. It didn't feel good when she woke up in the middle of the night coughing up her innards because tar was building up a wall in her lungs. Nothing was good about it, but she was addicted.

One cigarette soon became two, and she had to pull the window open further because the smoke was accumulating in her flat because of the awfully low ceiling and her fan still didn't work, which explained why her pajamas consisted of a tank top and underwear.

Jane twisted her neck to stare out the window. Although it was empty, the city sure lit up nicely at night. It felt so calming to know that there were hundreds of souls in Death City that were staring out the window at the beautiful lights just the way she was.

Maybe they were admiring the way the Academy draped a haunting glow over the streets. It was as if everything was painted in different shades of golden yellow.

Or maybe they were staring at the starless, cloudless night, moonless night. The darkness and light met to find a perfect balance of beauty in the city.

Jane felt fuller.

She wanted to take drags more carefully, trace the raindrops on her windowpane until they all connected to form a picture; she wanted to feel as if someone were doing these things with her.

After Jane grew up, all the love that she had in her heart that she had not been able to give away rotted. It sat like a rock, centered, useless. She constantly felt like she had overeaten pounds of food and now they were just sitting in her stomach; indigestible.

She didn't have anyone to love. Jane was alone.

It wasn't unusual, though. Jane was unhappy, generally. But that didn't mean that she couldn't laugh at funny things and marvel at beautiful things and enjoy happy moments. She could still do happy things even though she was unhappy.

She flicked her cigarette butt out the window and closed it.

Jane padded back to her room. Boxes were still packed up like stairs in the corner.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and stared at herself in the mirror. From now on, she'd start trying harder. She'd try for attention, she'd try to make herself look good, she'd make someone take interest in her.

Her reflection was frowning. The scar that ran up her left side and ending on her collar bone stung, still. Even after two years.

But most wounds were like that, they took long to heal. Even after the skin had regenerated and grown over it, it was still a mental image. The memory of having been cut open in such a way perturbed her; it sent a chill up her spine at the thought.

Her mind was stirring. Her heart was grinding it's gears, shifting from its dormancy.

She cracked her back and bent down to scratch her foot.

Tomorrow would be a good day, she promised herself.

For the first time, she wouldn't be lying.

* * *

Sun rays filtered into the room, drawing shadows on the empty floor.

Jane stirred; she could see pieces of dust floating around in the air.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching out her long legs. Most of her clothes were still in boxes, but she managed to pull out a number just in time.

A blue sweater that accentuated her Double Ds and a mini skirt that she paired with stockings- just to keep things PG. She let her hair hang loosely around her shoulders and thickened her eyelashes with mascara. For the first time in a long time, Jane felt pretty.

Stein saw her enter in his peripheral vision. She funneled in with a group of students he didn't pay much attention to, he did notice however, that she was not talking to them.

She seated herself at the top row again, tossing her hair over one shoulder. She caught his eye before he could look away quickly and a small smile played on her pink lips.

He found himself staring at her more than he should have during the lesson.

It was hard not to. Her soul wavelength was untraceable. The amount of hypothesizes and experiments he had in mind when he thought of her were endless. There was such an air of mystery about this girl. She was an enigma, and Stein liked knowing things before stumbling into them blindly.

She sat with her head balanced on her hand, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and smiling condescendingly with mock enthusiasm. At this point, Stein didn't care if his students paid attention or not- many of them had made or become Death Scythes.

For some reason though, Tsubaki, Maka, and Ox still took notes on the subjects they knew better than their home.

Her eyes flickered down to her crossed legs, he had lost her interest.

He announced the test in a week to the class, receiving the usual groans, and dismissed them. As she left, he could've sworn she had closed one eye faster than the other, and puckered her lips in the slightest twitch when their eyes met again.

Somehow, he would get to the bottom of this.

* * *

Now Jane remembered why she'd hated regular high school.

It was those goddamned parties. The kids were so bored out of their minds that they'd do anything to kill the boredom- smoke pot, do ecstasy in toilets, snort glue, inject meth, you name it. But these Shibusen kids, whose souls were even more charismatic than the regular teenagers, were something else.

It wasn't the first party she had gone to since she had transferred, but it was definitely one of the roudiest.

She had arrived at eleven and kids were already passed out and drunk.

The house was by far beyond repair, the owner would have a lot of explaining or cleaning to do, depending on if they lived with their parents.

A boy Jane had never seen before in her life was throwing empty beer bottles against the brick wall, when she asked him calmly why, he merely shrugged and told her it was his house. Although she vaguely remembered being invited by a girl.

Kids were making out on the couch and floor, the lights above them dimmed as low as possible. The music pounded throughout the entire house, making it shake. A boy who was smoking a joint in the corner of the room suddenly pulled a knife from his pocket and ran towards Jane. She ducked out of the way quickly, her heart pounding.

But he was aiming for an armchair, which he got to, and sliced open. Goose feathers and down flew into the air and kids cheered, dancing around in the flurry of softness.

Jane saw the girl who had invited her retreat upstairs holding onto a boy's hand, they slipped into a room, both giggling and planting flirtatious kisses on one another.

She decided she had had enough, and stalked outside for a smoke.

But outside was just as bad. For some reason, this house had a pool. And for some reason, the hostess hadn't been smart enough to cover it before the party.

Girls were stripping down to their minimums and jumping in, squealing and shrieking with pleasure when the boys jumped in after them and tickled their bare skin.

Kids were throwing up and making out in the bushes, and by the smell of it, smoking some pretty cheap weed too.

Jane rolled her eyes; the amount of immaturity was astounding. She picked up a beer from a cooler nearby and flipped the screw top off by hitting it against a brick in the wall. Her pack of cigarettes weighed heavily in her pocket, tempting. She didn't want anyone to see her though, so she vowed to herself to wait until she got back to her apartment. It was so appealing; she almost left right then and there.

A white haired boy and his equally strange colored haired partner wandered around the backyard passing out drinks that had obviously been drugged.

She only knew this because they were being less than subtle, giving each other looks when a girl actually accepted the drink. Or the blue haired one would shout, 'YAHOO' or '(INSERT SOMETHING ABOUT SURPASSING GOD HERE)' and his white haired friend would silence him.

When they approached her, Jane was more than ready.

"Want a beer?" the white haired one asked, raising the tray with red solo cups.

She held up her bottle of Corona, although she would've preferred something of better quality and less watered down.

"Oh, hey! You're the new girl!" the blue haired one shouted for some reason. As if his voice wasn't loud enough when he talked. It took Jane a second before she saw how bloodshot his eyes were. _So that's the reason. _She thought to herself, unsure why she didn't just skip to conclusions before.

"And you're…?" He sauntered away before hearing her sentence, intrigued by something else. "Crossfaded." She guessed.

The white haired one laughed and scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah, he's a lightweight."

The boy who'd walked away shouted something to his friend about gods not having a high alcohol tolerance.

He rolled his eyes, "I'm Soul."

She shook his hand, looking into his dark red eyes. "Designated driver?"

"Nah," he shrugged. "I'm just not into that kind of stuff."

She nodded with mock empathy, "I guess that's why you're handing out roofies to girls, right?" He opened his mouth to protest but she went on, "C'mon man, that's really creepy. Plus, if you're trying to be subtle about it, you should try patches."

He laughed, a low baritone chuckle resonating in his throat. "You know from experience?"

"I do, actually," she admitted. "I haven't personally been patched but I've seen it happen to someone."

"Sucks," he muttered.

"You know," she stifled a smile when she saw a petite ashy blonde girl staring daggers at his back. "You really should get back to your girl."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't play dumb," she reached out and squeezed his shoulder. Soul flinched away and the girl's eyes widened. "Just as I thought, weapon and meister."

"Who?" he turned to see who Jane was talking about. "Maka? She's just my… meister, we're not like, _together _or something…" his cheeks obviously reddened, even under the darkness of the night sky.

"Oh man, you've got it bad." She pitied him. "Go before you get your ass kicked, it was nice meeting you, Soul. I'm Jane, by the way."

He grinned, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth. He turned towards Maka and threw away the tray of drinks he and his friend, who was now riding a lawn chair, had prepared.

_How tasteful_, Jane thought to herself. She ducked into the bushes and cut through the yard. She disappeared through the brush and lit a cigarette in the street.

* * *

The large door closed with a deafening creak, echoing through the room, the last student had left.

Stein looked up from the stack of ungraded tests and put his pen down, sitting back in his chair. The corners of Jane's mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. "You wanted to see me?" his voice came out evenly and calmly.

She flicked her ankle back and forth to a beat he wasn't conscious of. "Yeah," She uncrossed her legs and stood, dusting off her short skirt as she did so. "I wanted to talk to you about something." She slid her test off the table and walked down the aisle to his desk.

"Go ahead," he deadpanned, staring down at the mess of papers he'd have the pleasure of grading that night.

Her eyes shined with mischief, "I just wanted to tell you that, I'm new here, and so far, I hate it."

Stein raised his eyebrows, but remained impassive. "Okay, well, if you work hard-"

"The guys here are so immature," she interrupted him. "And sexist!" she recalled the many times boys had offered themselves to her in hopes that she'd let them cop a feel. "And the girls are worse, they eat it up, no… self-respect." She sighed, smirking at him when she saw his shoulders shake with a chuckle. "It's just all so… different, from where we're supposed to be at this point in women's history, you know?"

Stein sighed and shook his head, chuckling. "I wish I could argue," he shrugged. There were plenty of justifications behind her accusation. He saw the looks the hormone-driven teens all looked at each other in class, Stein was far from stupid.

"I…" she stepped closer to his desk, leaning down and making the space between their faces closer. Stein still couldn't find her soul, it infuriated him, not knowing how she was feeling, what her next step would be. "…went to this party where they were passing out Rohypnol."

Stein quirked an eyebrow.

She put her hands flat on his desk, he could see the bones of her long, thin fingers pulling against her skin. Her face inched closer to his, the aroma of shampoo and soap wafting around her."That's the date-rape drug." She whispered incredulously.

"I know what roofies are." He deadpanned.

She smirked and pulled away, "How uh, old are you?"

He stiffened, all at once, it hit him. She had let go. Her soul wavelength erupted into the room and he could feel it all around him, horrible and beautiful and intriguing. He managed to keep a straight face though, his blood was boiling, though. "I'm not going to answer that." He said plainly.

She cocked her head in a horribly cute way. "Twenty… six? Twenty seven?" she guessed.

Her soul was damaged. More than what first meet the eye. It was as if, it had been hiding itself for so long, it suddenly burst, like a supernova. But as time went by, the air stilled, the explosion was over, and her soul was slowly retreating back into itself, letting out small and deathly ill bouts of a dying soul.

Stein blinked and removed his glasses, rubbing the circles under his eyes. He sighed, looking up into her pale blue eyes. "Ballpark, yeah."

"A babe in the woods," she cocked her head the other way, her hair cascading down her shoulder and brushing against her chest. "Anyway," she turned around to reach for her paper. "I just wanted to tell you that you're not alone." She smirked and put the test face down on his desk, adding to the pile. "Here's my test."

She waltzed out of the classroom with confidence. Perfectly aware that his gaze was following her, mapping her out; his eyes followed the swing of her hips down to her completely exposed legs.

* * *

The sun was setting in the west as she walked back to her flat. It was only about six or seven blocks from the Academy, which was embarrassingly convenient- seeing as though there wasn't anything else for her to do in Death City.

She reached into her bag to grab her pack of cigarettes when she heard a familiar voice, "Hey! Jane!"

She let go of the bag quickly and it fell against her side with a soft _thump_. Jane whipped around to see the source of the voice, her face getting whipped with stray strands of wavy brown hair.

The boy from the other night was walking towards her, a shark-toothed grin. She smiled back, hoping she would be able to remember his name before it came up. "Hey…!" Too late.

"Soul." He reminded.

"Right! Sorry, I'm god-awful with names." A group of kids began walking towards them, Jane's stomach sunk. Was it too much to just get home?

"Hey Soul," the ashy blonde haired girl from the party strode up to them, she had her hair tied up in pigtails, which Jane found amusing seeing that they'd be legal adults soon. "Who's this?"

"This is Jane," he turned to the girl. "Jane, this is Maka."

"Oh! I remember you!" she pointed a finger at Jane. "You were at the party! You were that girl who told Ox to go fuck himself!" she doubled over in laughter, holding onto Soul's shoulder for support. "He's so embarrassed!"

"I…" Jane didn't really remember doing such a thing, but then again after she'd smoked a couple of cigarettes she wandered aimlessly around the party a bit longer, someone had offered her a drag from a joint and she'd indulged. It was only her second time smoking marijuana, which explained why it had affected her so easily… then again, how did she get home that night? "I might've been a little high…"

Maka widened her eyes, "There were drugs at the party?"

Jane almost laughed out loud but Soul shot her a look that meant Maka indeed did not know that the entire student body was addicted to pot, and it would be a crime to let her find out. "I had some left over joints from a party I went to a long time ago," Jane said easily. "Before I moved." She added, noting Soul's expression slack from nervousness to seriousness.

"That stuffs pretty bad for you…" Maka chastised, looking at Jane differently than she had before. "I would get rid of it if I were you, it could be pretty damaging for your future."

If she only knew half of it, "Yeah, I threw them away last night." The lies flowed out endlessly. "They weren't even good quality or anything." Jane wrinkled her nose; the weed at that party _hadn't_ been good. It was as if it were home grown or something.

"Hey! New Girl!" the blue haired boy yelled, running towards them.

_Great,_ Jane thought to herself. _I'll never get home at this rate._

"I AM THE MIGHTY BLACKSTAR! I PLAN TO SURPASS GO-!" he was silenced by Maka raising her arm, book in hand, and bringing it down on his head mercilessly.

Jane flinched, that would surely leave a bruise. "I remember you too," she looked down at the boy who was clutching his head and mumbling curses at Maka. "You're that kid that started humping furniture."

"Vodka is a powerful drink," he muttered at a more than acceptable volume.

"Blackstar!" a tall Japanese girl with an ample chest ran towards them and leaned down to put a hand on his shoulder affectionately. "Are you alright?"

He jumped up in a great act of valiance that must've made his head spin, "HAHAHA! AS IF A BOOK COULD DEFEAT SUCH A BIG GUY LIKE ME!" he yelled, dodging another blow from Maka's book. "WOULD YOU STOP IT ALREADY YOU CRAZY BITCH!?"

"Hey!" Soul growled, stepping in front of Maka protectively. "Don't talk to my meister like that!"

Maka's cheeks reddened and Jane wanted to throw herself out a window. These kids needed to get laid. _Fast._

"Um, I think I should probably get going," Jane looked at her building yearningly, only a couple feet away. "Before it gets dark and stuff."

"Yeah, of course." Soul said passively, possibly having forgotten that she was even there in the first place.

"We'll see you around, Jane!" Maka called out to her retreating figure.

"Until next time!" the black haired girl yelled.

"YAHOO! WE'LL SEE IF YOU'RE GREAT ENOUGH TO STAND IN THE PRESENCE OF—"

"HEY!" Maka's yell was growing quieter as Jane walked farther from them. "SHUT UP!"

Jane could scarcely hear a fight ensuing between who knows who at that point. She sighed and rolled her eyes, the kids here were embarrassingly immature. A feeling raked at Jane's stomach, reminding her of her plan.

She smiled to herself, finally retrieving that much needed cigarette from her bag and lighting it.

* * *

Jane walked up to the doorstep and knocked twice, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear shortly after.

The door opened and she grinned, "Hi, Professor Stein."

"Jane?" he scratched his unruly bedhead.

She took in his appearance, he was wearing a white undershirt that he'd probably slept in. The V-neck exposed his collar bones, and many more crosses of stitches. He was also wearing a pair of baggy navy boxers. And adorably enough, his lab coat. "Can I come in?"

His hazel eyes stared at her suspiciously, "No?" It wasn't a question, more like he was asking her why she'd ask something so preposterous.

"You know," she leaned into the doorframe. "There are kishin eggs all over the place, out loose, killing people every day."

He had trouble focusing in on her, since his glasses were still inside the house. "You shouldn't joke about that." He cautioned.

"You're the one who won't let me in," she reminded, tapping her foot against the concrete. "I might _die._" She widened her blue eyes.

He sighed, and in an uncharacteristic act, opened the door wider for her.

She stepped in, nodding towards him in acknowledgement with a smirk plastered onto her face.

She dropped her bag at the door and waited for him to close the door. He walked ahead of her, and she followed him. "Very nice," she said warmly, looking around the empty house. "Pretty dark."

It kind of reminded her of her place actually. Instead of mildew and dampness it smelled of formaldehyde. Something Jane wasn't entirely fond of, but she'd grow accustomed to.

He led her into the kitchen, where he stood in place, waiting for her to make the move.

She unbuttoned her coat and let it slip over her shoulders, and then down her back, painfully slow. She arched her back and let the coat fall into her hand.

"Jane," his tone was somewhat harsh. "To be honest, I know what you're doing. I'm a meister, I can read your soul."

She pouted, "Is something wrong?"

He sighed and picked up his glasses off the counter. He took the bottom of his shirt and rubbed the lenses clean, revealing a toned chest. "Well your wavelength is a bit alarming, I have trouble believing that you're here right now to ask me something about school." He put his glasses back on. "Or am I wrong?"

She rolled her eyes, "What are you implying?"

He sighed and ran a large hand through his hair again. "Do you want me to give you a lift home?" She continued to look around the kitchen, taking in all her surroundings. He was messy. Jane was like that too. Nothing in her house had a designated place, everything was out where she could see it. That way she knew were everything was. Stein had dishes piled up in the sink, papers assorted on his table, which he probably didn't even use as a dining table. Jane could imagine him coming home from work only to eat standing up, or just forgetting to eat altogether; a smile played on her lips. "I could call someone-"

"Ooh! Can I have some wine?" She skipped over to the far end of the granite counter, her hair bouncing around her face.

"Absolutely not!" Stein swiftly wedged himself between the bottle of champagne and Jane. Spirit had gotten him the bottle when he first became a professor at the Academy. It had sat in that corner for four or five years now, completely forgotten.

He glared at Jane, who was giggling. She was dangerously close now, their bodies almost touching.

"This is like when people describe a car crash happening in slow motion," he sighed, looking down at her.

She raised her eyebrows condescendingly, "You need to relax. I am the one seducing you." Stein almost dropped the bottle he was holding in his hand. He set it down on the counter and looked back at her with a new air in his eyes. She took a step closer, even daringly put a hand on his chest, fingering the cotton of the baggy shirt; but he didn't pull away, his mind was racing with 'what ifs' and 'what's nexts'. "Besides…" she trailed off, her other hand hovering over his neck and eventually cupping his face, brushing her thumb against his stitches. "I find you very handsome."

Stein let out a shaky breath, for once he had been at a loss for words. She smiled up at him and pulled away, turning around to pick up her coat. She slipped it on and pulled her hair out from under the collar.

He followed her blindly, she picked up her bag at the front door and gave a small wave goodbye.

Stein stood rooted in place. He'd never been manipulated like this before, it was strange. He had trouble concentrating on what his next move should be, resist or tell her off. It was tempting to give in and see where this would lead, even he wasn't sure, but he knew the right thing would be to gently tell her off.

But Jane knew better. She had him right where she wanted him. Not long ago, when she attended regular high school and before she had even known of her weapon blood, she'd been friends with Lily Benderson.

Now Lily wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but her looks made up for just about everything else she lacked. And she knew it. She could play just about any boy she wanted to as if they were an instrument. And in the span of their two year friendship, if there was one thing Jane had learned from Lily, in her infinite wisdom, it was men.

She told Jane that if she'd ever wanted to make a man happy, flatter their vanity. Tell them they're handsome. Lily had said not to bother him by saying he was interesting or clever, because that's what his colleagues and bosses were for. But every man carries a secret dream of being handsome, and desperately yearns to be recognized as such.

And so it began.

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